Sore Eyes
by VeeKoffii
Summary: Akane Ishido just wants to live a normal life, without Sore Eyes. But that might just be her downfall.
1. Chapter 1: Cold Floor Ragged Blankets

**Akane Ishido is an OC I came up with, and is in no way incorporated into the original Tokyo Ghoul. Damn it copywrite.**

 **Chapter One: Cold Floor Ragged Blankets**

Akane's eyes burst open once again, as a thunderstorm raged above her. Her small, wooden shack her father had made was not very strong. They were curled on their wet dirt floor, with a tattered blanket around their bodies.

"Daddy, why do the ghouls want to hurt us so bad? Seeing all the hate makes my eyes sore."

She was about 6 then.

The Great War was raging harder than ever tonight, and off in the distance, Akane heard gunshots. And screaming. And strange, mushy sounds. She didn't know what they were.

"I don't know, sweetie. But it'll all get better soon. Daddy will protect you. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered, almost to the point he couldn't hear her. Just then, she heard gentle footsteps toward the shack. She quickly and silently rolled over, and whispered to her father about it. They shuffled over to a ladder, that led up to the shoddy, mildewed attic. They, as quietly as they could with the creaky ladder, climbed up. There was a large trunk, and a few blankets. He opened up the trunk, and removed a few boxes. Leaving Akane enough room to climb inside, with a tight squeeze.

Her father Grabbed a yellowed, crusty blanket and curled in a ball. He sat up and put the blanket over his body, so it draped across his body, almost like he was simply a few stacked crates.

Just as he did this, their crumbling door creaked open. They could hear a woman's gentle breathing.


	2. Chapter 2: Aching Eyes

Akane heard footsteps walk towards their makeshift bed, and pull the blanket over. The woman then climbed up the ladder. Akane looked through the hole of the lock. She was a tall, in her early twenties, and had fair skin. She also had straight black hair. Half her head was shaved, and she wore a green hoodie and aged jeans, with simple white Adidas shoes. The woman was staring at the blanket her father was beneath. Akane saw the woman's eyes fill with bloodlust, as her eyes turned a silky black color, the irises a heavy red. The veins around her eyes turned red, as well. Her father had explained ghouls to her, in case she were ever in danger.

Akane shrieked, but was muffled by the items surrounding her. Akane heard a bubbling noise, and saw the woman's Kagune. It was inky, and fluid. There were three of them. Three inky pincers, about to dive within her father. Akane closed her eyes, fighting the lock of the box.

Her father locked it, so he'll live! He'll have to live, so he can let her out! She relaxed, and a few moments later, the woman's Kagune shot forward. She heard a

mushy sound, and saw blood splatter against the walls. Her father sputtered blood out of his mouth, and whispered.

"Ah- kah- ney..."

The woman giggled, and her father was dead.

Akane, whimpering, watched the woman begin celebrating.

"Ah! You died already, didn't you? That's a shame. I usually like to play with my food, though my mum advises otherwise. Ah, but we don't always get what we want, do we? The woman giggled, bending over Akane's father. This woman pulled up her father's shirt. "A bit skinny for my taste, but you'll be a nice appetizer." She said this, and dove into the man. She gnawed at his bones, savored his organs, and straight drank his blood. "Oh, there might not be much of you, but you truly tase DIVINE!" She said, grinning as she chewed. About ten minutes later, the woman pushed the man's body to the side.

"I've had my full, now. It seems." She said, using her Kagune to bounce out of the roof of the rickety shack.


	3. Chapter 3: Trapped

**I'm honestly not sure how often I'm gonna be posting. This Fanfic just kinda popped into my head. Hopefully I'll be able to roll with it, those few who read this, tell me what you think. All reviews are appreciated!**

 **Chapter 3: Trapped**

A few minutes after the woman left, Akane was still trapped in the box. She just laid there sobbing. She didn't care if she stayed in that box forever. Her father was dead, and she had nowhere to go, anyway. After an hour of silently sobbing, the smell of dust, shuffling of rats, and stinging reminder that her father's deceased body was merely feet away from where she trapped herself, Her mind a prison was enough to get her to be motivated to do something. She eventually ceased crying, and went through scenarios in her mind.

• She could leave this box, and walk out defenseless into a ginormous war in the twentieth ward, with starving ghouls everywhere.

• She could stay in this box, slowly dehydrating, starving, and losing sanity until she was put out of her painful misery.

The problem with option one is how She could get out of the box, among other things. The second option was tempting, but her father wouldn't have wanted that. Upon thinking of her father, another shudder of pain ran through her.

Akane rolled over, onto her back. Slowly moving her body, she moved with caution. She bent her knees, her feet against the lid of her encasement. She began to push. She reached her hands to her sides, to brace herself for the pain in her legs. Her right hand suddenly stung, causing her to cry out. There was a knife's blade right where she put her hand. She used her left hand to feel the right. The cut was on the left side of her palm. She felt a warm, wetness there. She then remembered the key hole. Could a knife ever possibly fit in there? It may have been crazy, but she didn't care anymore. She reached for the knife. As she picked it up, it pulled on one side of her hand's cut, tugging at the skin. She maneuverd the knife so it was on the other side of the cut, where it wouldn't tug on it. Even then she dropped the knife. Her hand was still slippery with blood. She'd never wrangle the knife into the lock like this. She had a sick idea.

She had nothing to lose anymore anyway, right?

She set down the knife. She raised her bloodied hand

To her parted lips, and licked the blood dry. Tons and tons of blood. It had a metallic taste, and salty. It had another element to it, though. It almost tasted like her favorite cheesecake, made by her father when they owned a bakery, before the war. It gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that she could actually enjoy something like blood. She ignored that, for now.

She finally grabbed the knife, and slid in in the hole. It was a strangely good match for the size. She twisted the knife, and heard a click. She hurriedly came out of the container, and put the knife in her back pocket. She'd found it's sheath, and put that around it. She went to their bathroom, avoiding looking at her father. She grabbed the cracked hand mirror. She brushed out her burgundy hair, and looked into her once innoent blue eyes. Now all she saw was bleak, lacking hope. She tried to muster a smile, unsuccessfully convincing herself. Then, she left. Hoping to never see the shack again.


End file.
